


Please, Please, Please (Let Me Get What I Want)

by gracerene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clubbing, Community: hd_erised, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Established Relationship, First Time, Frottage, H/D Erised 2018, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Holding Hands, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, POV Draco Malfoy, Passing Mention of Internalized Homophobia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Second War with Voldemort, awkward dinners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-08-24 13:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracerene/pseuds/gracerene
Summary: Draco might not be experienced, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what he wants.





	Please, Please, Please (Let Me Get What I Want)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magpie_fngrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie_fngrl/gifts).



> Happy H/D Erised, Magpie! Pinch hitters are the best (and so are you!) so I was really pleased to have an opportunity to write you a little something this year. I tried to fit in several of your likes in this PWP, so I hope you enjoy! ♥
> 
> All my love to capitu, firethesound, & writcraft for their invaluable input! 
> 
> Title is a song by the Smiths.
> 
> Written for the 2018 H/D Erised exchange fest.

"This wine is excellent," Granger said a little too brightly, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over their table. "I don't know much about wine, but this is really good. Thank you for picking it, Malfoy."

She threw a rather pointed look in Weasley's direction, and he straightened up and gave Draco a painful looking smile. "Yeah, goes great with the...err...steak."

Draco knew the edges of his own smile were strained, but he did his best to graciously accept their compliments. This dinner together—the first time he'd properly been around either Granger or Weasley since Hogwarts—was never going to be anything less than excruciating, but they'd been far more diplomatic that night than he'd been expecting. It was promising, especially because if things continued to progress the way Draco hoped they would, he'd likely be spending significantly more time around the two of them in the future. Draco knew he had a lot of work to do before he fully gained either of their trust, but tonight seemed like a good start. It was clear the three of them were on their very best behaviour and trying hard to be civil.

Their reason for said attempt at civility flashed them all a grateful smile, his warm, broad hand reaching under the table to briefly squeeze Draco's thigh in thanks. Not for the first time over the past several weeks, Draco found himself musing on the fact that there was quite a lot he'd suffer through for Harry Potter's sake. The knowledge was both startling and a little alarming, especially considering the fact that he and Harry had only recently begun seeing each other.

Draco supposed he shouldn't be surprised that things between Harry and him had become so intense so quickly. They were hardly strangers, after all, and their shared history had never been anything less than explosive. It had taken over a year of Draco regularly consulting as a Curse-Breaker on Harry's Auror cases for their icy interactions to begin to thaw, and another six months after that for them to become something approaching friends. He'd been grateful to have that much of Harry's attention, assuming that was as far as their relationship would go. Draco still wasn't sure who had been more surprised last month when Harry kissed him goodnight after one of their evenings at the pub—Draco or Harry himself.

Draco had expected Harry to brush it off as a drunken mistake and avoid him forever, but he'd forgot about the strength of those Gryffindor tendencies. Harry had flung himself into their fledgling relationship full-throttle, dragging Draco helplessly along with him. Feelings had exploded within Draco, seemingly out of nowhere, though if he were honest with himself he could recognise that they'd been building for a long while. It was terrifying, realising how quickly and deeply he'd fallen for Harry, how desperately he wanted this impossible relationship of theirs to work, how much he was willing to do to make that happen. Even more insane was the fact that Draco was fairly certain Harry felt the same way. He wouldn't have asked Draco out to _officially_ meet his best mates if he weren't serious about their relationship, wouldn't have clearly instructed Granger and Weasley to give Draco a chance if he weren't worried that somehow _they_ would scare _Draco_ away. It all made Draco glow with an embarrassing warmth and made his attempts at small talk that much more genuine, if still a bit stilted.

The four of them made it through the entire meal—shockingly without incident. Draco was thrilled when the bill was finally delivered to their table with a flourish, and he batted Harry's hand away with a pointed glare, proudly pulling out the small plastic rectangle that Gringotts had assured him would function as currency in the Muggle world. Judging by the surprise and flicker of approval in Harry and Granger's eyes, the goblins hadn't steered him wrong. He watched the waiter disappear with his payment, already looking forward to the official end of the meal and a chance to escape the discomfort of the evening. Perhaps he and Harry could go back to one of their flats together after this and finally make good on the tension that had been building so steadily between them.

"I want to go dancing," Granger declared as she drained the last of her wine—her third glass that evening. Her cheeks were pink, her smile wide, and Draco was surprised by the stray thought that tipsiness was an attractive look on her.

"Oh do you?" Weasley replied, looking amused and then thoughtful. "I suppose it's been ages since we've gone out, and it _is_ Friday night after all. I'd be up for it. Fabric?"

Granger's face lit up. " _Yes_. That would be perfect." She turned towards Harry, her expression pleading. "You'll come with us, won't you?" Her smile took on a slightly brittle quality, but she seemed genuine when she looked over at Draco. "Both of you," she said before explaining, clearly for Draco's benefit, "Fabric's a Muggle club we like to go to when we need to blow off some steam. It'll be fun."

Draco saw the flash of eagerness in Harry's eyes before he quickly masked it, hesitating as he replied, "I'm not sure, 'Mione. I don't know if that's really—"

"Sounds lovely," Draco interrupted, giving Granger a winning smile. "We'd love to come with."

Granger hesitated for a moment before returning his smile. "Great."

"You sure you want to go?" Harry whispered when Granger and Weasley were distracted gazing soppily into one another's eyes "I know it's probably not your scene…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I _have_ been clubbing before, you know. I'm not a complete prude. Maybe I've not been to any Muggle places, but that's just because I don't know the protocol." He gave Harry a hot stare and lowered his voice. "You'll help me with that, won't you? Show me the ropes?"

Harry swallowed heavily, and Draco suppressed a triumphant grin. "Yeah," Harry said roughly. "I'll help."

Draco smiled brightly. "Excellent. I'll meet you all outside, then. I need to pop into the loo and change."

"Change?"

"Well I can hardly show up to a club wearing this, now can I?" He gestured at his outfit, which was clearly a little too formal (not to mention overly warm) for a night out in the sweaty clubs. The rest of them could get away with what they were currently wearing, but Draco had always felt most comfortable when he'd dressed to kill, and given his nerves over this dinner, he'd taken that to heart when he'd got ready for the evening. "I don't have time to properly change, so I'll have to make do with some quick Transfiguration," he continued with a sigh. It would completely destroy his clothes, but it would be worth it not to feel even more out of place in such a new environment.

The thought of having to throw away his new purchases sent the tiniest of pangs through Draco—he'd spent an embarrassingly long time selecting his outfit for the evening, after all. He'd done so not only because he'd wanted to make a good impression, but because he'd known the restaurant would be thoroughly Muggle, and he hadn't wanted to make any humiliating fashion faux pas. He'd eventually settled on a pair of crisp black trousers, a cream-coloured sweater, and a dark green blazer, paired with his favourite dragonhide boots; perhaps the green was a little on the nose, but for this dinner, he could use all the comfort he could get. Draco had been so overcome with nerves that he'd resorted to firecalling Blaise for a final opinion on his pick. None of Draco's friends knew anything at all about Muggles—Blaise included—but out of all of them, Blaise was the one who was most familiar with all things fashion, and Draco trusted his opinion more than most. He'd obliged Draco's panic with an overly-amused smile, settling Draco's nerves with a glass of Merlot and confirming that Draco looked every inch the reformed and respectable boyfriend—though not before giving him a thorough ribbing for his _painful level of sincerity_.

"Yeah, okay then," Harry replied with a fond smile that said he thought Draco was being ridiculous and that he kind of liked it. "Meet you outside."

Draco's palms were sweating by the time he exited the loo, freshly Transfigured clothes clinging to his skin. There had already been plenty of pressure on the night going well, but while he was changing he'd gone and decided to add some more.

Tonight was the night.

Clubbing was just the impetus he'd needed to make a move, providing a golden opportunity to show Harry that he wasn't some blushing flower and that he was bloody sick of waiting. He didn't blame Harry (much) for his hesitation. Draco knew it was his own fault, really.

He never should have told Harry he was a virgin.

The thing about pure-bloods was that they placed a high premium on tradition and values that were, for lack of a better term, quite antiquated. Draco knew there'd been some pretty peculiar rumours going around Hogwarts about Slytherin sex parties in the dungeons, but the truth of the matter was that most of them had been quite chaste and proper. Of course there'd been a couple of his peers who had rebelled against their rigid upbringing, but they'd been the exception, not the rule, and they'd generally been shunned by the rest of the house for their indecorous behaviour.

Salazar, they'd all been such a bunch of twats.

Even beyond the fact that he'd been raised with the belief that sex before marriage was _not the done thing_ , there'd been the little issue of Draco realising that witches weren't the ones he wanted to have sex with. Same-sex relationships were more or less accepted by the wizarding public these days, but the pure-blood traditionalists were most definitely on the _less_ side when it came to the spectrum of acceptance. In a community that valued blood-lines, lineage, and purity, there wasn't a whole lot of room in their doctrine to condone unions that wouldn't lead to the production of a biological heir. Draco's family had meant everything to him, their values ingrained in him as gospel from the moment he was born—he hadn't stood a chance. He'd suppressed everything in him that spoke to lust and desire and romance, buried it deep beneath loyalty and duty. The war had been awful in unspeakable ways, but it had opened his eyes and shown him the error of so many of those deeply held beliefs, the ones that said that pure-bloods were superior, that money could buy everything, even happiness, and that wanting a man was wrong. It had taken years (and a small arsenal of Mind Healers) before Draco had been capable of moving past the internalised shame and self-loathing, before he was finally able to get to a point where he could not only accept his desires, but embrace them.

Of course, by the time that happened, he'd already been branded and labelled _persona non grata_ in the wizarding world. Even if he wanted to get laid—which he very much did—finding a willing wizard had proved to be an impossible task. He wasn't strictly opposed to pulling a Muggle, but he frankly wasn't sure how to even go about it. All of his friends were as thoroughly pure-blooded as he was and equally ignorant about the ways and workings of the Muggle world. Even Blaise, the most suave and worldly of his friends, had seemed completely at a loss when it came to all things Muggle—outside of fashion, of course. Draco knew now, intellectually at least, that Muggles weren't evil creatures, but he couldn't seem to entirely suppress the instinctive fear he felt at the thought of immersing himself in their world by himself. It was cowardly of him, he knew that, but Draco had never claimed to be otherwise.

He exited the restaurant and Harry's eyes widened in blatant admiration as he looked him over from head to toe. Draco flashed him a self-satisfied grin. He'd left his forest green dragonhide boots alone, but he'd ended up Transfiguring his black trousers into something a bit more form-fitting—skin-tight, to be exact. He'd debated on what to do with his shirt but ended up keeping the long sleeves, turned the colour jet black, and then changed the material into something gauzy and sheer. It was a bit chilly outside without his blazer to keep him warm, but it simply hadn't gone with the outfit. He'd Banished it back home, not wanting to ruin it with Transfiguration if he could avoid it. If this Muggle club was anything like the wizarding ones he'd been to, it'd be boiling inside and he wouldn't need the layers anyway. He'd run his fingers through his hair to complete the look, mussing up the strands into something closer to freshly-shagged as opposed to the _respectable partner_ he'd been going for at dinner. Draco knew he looked good, and it appeared Harry wasn't the only one who agreed. There was a surprising flash of appreciation in Granger's eyes as she gave him a quick once over, her cheeks flushing bright red when she realised she'd been caught staring.

"Shall we?" Granger squeaked out as she quickly tore her gaze away from Draco.

"Lead the way."

The night air was brisk but not overly cold, and Harry assured Draco the club was only a ten minute walk away. Draco didn't mind, not when it gave Harry an opportunity to clumsily reach for Draco's hand, his palm rough and dry and fever-hot in the cool air. Draco could always blame the chill for his red cheeks, if necessary.

Happily, the club didn't seem all that different from the wizarding ones Draco had been to. It was loud and dark, with pulsing multi-coloured lights and a deep bass that shook the floors beneath them. The system for acquiring drinks seemed deeply inefficient without serving spells helping to crank out the orders, and there were far fewer things floating about in the air, but the atmosphere was recognisably similar. It made Draco smile as he threw back his shot of something called 'Fireball' which Draco quickly learned tasted nothing at _all_ like Firewhisky. It had required every last bit of his willpower not to chuck up the vile cinnamon-flavoured monstrosity on Harry's shoes. He stuck with regular whisky after that.

It took several more shots before he was able to coax Harry out on the dancefloor. Granger and Weasley were already lost in the heaving crowd, a fact for which Draco was grateful for a number of reasons. He pulled Harry close, wrapping his hands around Harry's waist and letting them curve over Harry's arse as he guided them into a seductive grind. Harry might not have much rhythm, but Draco had always loved to dance and he had no problem helping Harry along. Of course, what they were doing right now barely qualified as dancing; it was more a teasing suggestion of what Draco wished they were doing instead.

He and Harry had been taking things slowly since that first kiss over a month ago now. Draco told himself he understood the rationale. With their fraught history, slow and steady could only be a good thing. Still, he couldn't help but think their past wasn't the only reason Harry had been so set on their glacial pace, that he was moving this slowly because of Draco's little confession about his lack of experience. They kissed, of course, sometimes for hours, splayed out on Harry's sofa as they explored one another's mouths until their lips were hot and swollen. But the moment things showed even a hint of heating up, Harry would back off with a sheepish smile and an awkward excuse to use the loo.

Honestly, Draco had never wanked so much in his entire life—not even when he was fifteen and just discovering all the joys of self-pleasure. Every night he'd lie awake with his hand shoved down his pyjama bottoms as he pulled himself off to thoughts of Harry's sexy smile, the tempting curve of his arse in tight jeans, the thought of what it might feel like to sink inside Harry's gripping heat. He wanted to kiss Harry all over, taste him _everywhere_ , and he was bloody sick of waiting. It might be different if he thought Harry was holding back for his own sake, but Draco knew that wasn't the case. Harry had got it in his head that Draco needed to be treated delicately, and it was up to Draco to prove otherwise. He'd been waiting for Harry to make the first move, but since Draco wanted to get laid this bloody century, he'd have to be the one to show Harry that sex was very much on the table.

He squeezed Harry's arse as he rode down against Harry's firm thigh, leaning in to take Harry's lips in a kiss. Draco had meant for the kiss to be soft and swift, but Harry's mouth had opened beneath his so sweetly, and Draco couldn't resist taking what was on offer. They stayed locked together like that through several songs, their hips undulating with the throb of the bass as hands wandered and tongues stroked together. By the time they finally parted, Draco felt dizzy and lust-drunk and very much eager to take things further. Much further.

"Come back to mine," he murmured against Harry's ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.

Harry shivered, his hands squeezing down on Draco's arse. "Yeah, okay."

Harry darted away before Draco had a chance to stop him, likely looking for Granger and Weasley to make their excuses. The moment he reappeared, Draco dragged him out of the club and down the nearest empty alleyway. He tugged Harry close before Apparating them both directly to his bedroom. Harry's eyebrows rose when he registered where they landed.

"Someone's eager."

Draco met Harry's gaze, letting the full intensity of his desire shine through. "I am."

Harry swallowed, seeming to register Draco's intent. "Oh. Okay. What do you want?"

"You naked, for a start."

"You sure?" Harry asked. They hadn't gone so far before, and though a part of Draco was annoyed by the question, he appreciated the sentiment.

"I'm sure. I've waited long enough."

"Can't argue with that," Harry said with a grin. "I'm more than happy to strip off for you, but only if you join me."

"That was the plan."

"There's a plan?" Harry asked as he pulled off his shirt.

Draco allowed himself a moment to appreciate Harry's bare chest before responding. "Of course there's a plan. It's been twenty-one _years_. There's an entire bloody list to work through."

Harry laughed as he stepped out of his pants. "All right, so what's next on this list of yours?"

Draco swallowed, his mouth dry as he took in Harry's naked body, his gaze lingering on the hardening length of Harry's cock. Salazar, there weren't enough hours in the day for Draco to do everything he wanted to with Harry. He cleared his throat.

"Get on the bed."

Harry complied, throwing himself bodily back on the bed, his dick flopping ridiculously as he bounced his way to the middle and laid back. If Draco hadn't already known he was gone on Harry, that right there would have proved it. Even being one of the most absurd things he'd ever seen, Draco's cock still twitched merrily in appreciation of Harry's nude body splayed out on Draco's sheets.

With significantly more grace, Draco crawled up on the bed after him, kneeling between Harry's spread legs and taking a moment to drink him in. Harry was so beautiful like this, his tan skin glowing in the lamp light, those one-of-a-kind green eyes sparkling with desire. He ran his fingertips over Harry's belly, the pitted scar on his chest, the rosy bud of his right nipple, before moving up over his collarbones and the line of his throat, ghosting over the cupid's bow of his lips.

"Draco," Harry murmured, his voice low and eager. "What do you want?"

"Oh, Harry...what I want with you could fill several hundred books." He leaned forward to brush a soft kiss against Harry's slack mouth. "What I really want right now is to be inside you, but I'm fairly certain I'm too bloody turned on to last long enough for that."

Harry's breath hitched. "Oh. You'd want that? I just thought—"

Draco gave him a look. "What? That because I've never fucked somebody before I wouldn't want to fuck _you_?" Harry looked sheepish, and Draco took pity on him. "I want both. Want you to tell me just how you like it, want to make you fall apart," he confessed, knowing his desire was evident in his tone. He smirked. "And then I want you to do the same to me."

Harry shivered, though whether it was from Draco's words or because Draco chose that moment to lower himself completely down on top of Harry, Draco couldn't quite be sure. Possibly both.

"God, yeah," Harry moaned as Draco began to grind his hips. He might not be experienced, but his body seemed to know just what to do. Their cocks slid together, hot, sticky friction that made Draco's heart race and his toes curl. "Want that, Draco," Harry gasped. "Want everything with you."

Draco shuddered before leaning in to kiss Harry quiet, sure that if Harry spoke another word Draco would go off like the Snitch at the start of a Quidditch match. He threaded his fingers through Harry's and stretched their arms up by Harry's head. He pressed Harry's hands against the mattress as he kissed him harder, pinning him in place while he thrust against Harry's body. Positioned as they were and with liquid pleasure pooling in his groin, it wasn't difficult to imagine what it'd be like to fuck Harry just like this, his body open to Draco as he writhed on Draco's cock. Merlin, he wanted it, and wanted to feel Harry's thick cock split him open in turn. Draco didn't think he'd ever get enough.

Someone was making hungry whining sounds into their kiss, and Draco realised with a start that it was him. He was close, so fucking close, and he might be embarrassed by how quickly he was pushed to the edge, but it was the first time he'd ever come with another person, so he figured he could cut himself a bit of slack.

"Fuck, Draco, you're so bloody hot," Harry murmured feverishly against Draco's lips. "God, are you going to come? I want you to, want you to come all over me."

"Who knew you were so filthy," Draco managed to gasp out before his orgasm left him in a head-spinning rush, spurts of white coating Harry's groin. Harry groaned loudly in response, his hips bucking up more fervently against Draco.

"Shit, don't stop, Draco. I'm so close."

Draco shifted so his over-sensitive cock was out of play, providing the thick muscle of his thigh for Harry to frot up against. He leaned down for another kiss as he and Harry rocked together, pleasure swirling lazily through his veins as he helped propel Harry towards his own climax.

Harry was loud when he came, pulling his lips away from Draco's to groan as his cock spilled against Draco's thigh. It was really fucking hot, and Draco couldn't help but press hungry kisses against Harry's throat as he shuddered through the aftermath, already looking forward to being able to do it all over again.

"So how was it?" Harry mumbled against Draco's hair when he seemed to regain higher brain function.

Draco pulled back to look at Harry, noting the surprising flash of insecurity lurking in his eyes. "Well I'm no expert," Draco said softly. "But I thought it was pretty fucking brilliant."

Harry's answering grin was blinding. "Yeah, I thought so too. Do you mind if I clean us off?"

"Not at all."

Harry waved his hand, and the tell-tale tingling of a Cleaning Charm prickled across Draco's skin. Draco wasn't too shabby at wandless magic himself, but it was disgustingly hot watching Harry's casual command of magic. He huffed in annoyance, wishing his cock would get the memo that the rest of him was ready to get started on round two. Sex was every bit as fantastic as he'd known it would be, and he had years to make up for.

"So, erm," Harry said, tearing Draco away from his sexy musings. "I was wondering if I could maybe stay here tonight? I could make us a proper fry-up in the morning, and then maybe you could take me to that fancy bookshop you keep going on about."

Inexplicably, Draco's cheeks warmed. They'd not yet spent the night over at one another's places, and he marvelled at Harry's ability to boldly ask for what he wanted without Slytherin subterfuge or manipulations. It was strange, but welcome, being with somebody who didn't feel the need to play games. After what they'd just shared, Draco wanted Harry close, and he wasn't sure if he'd have had the courage to ask Harry to stay. Good thing he was dating a Gryffindor.

"I'd like that," Draco said quietly, his heart squeezing tight at the pleased smile on Harry's face in response.

"Brilliant," Harry replied as he got comfortable under the sheets. "Maybe we can continue working on the rest of that list of yours in the morning."

Draco grinned as he settled in next to Harry, curling up against his side.

"Oh, you can count on it."

**Author's Note:**

> [Kudos ♥] and [Comments] are fabulous! I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://gracerene09.tumblr.com/)!


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